Page 96 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“Not before I’m done with you.” He grinned at my whimper, left the bed, and fumbled through his pants pockets until he produced a condom.

“Thank god.”

“Lance stashes them in my wallet as not-so-subtle encouragement.” He tore the wrapper, then paused to stroke himself, base to crown. His cock was big, thick, and glistening. “He thinks it’s hilarious.”

I flushed at the sight of his fist moving on himself, aching to have him inside me. “You are never telling Lance about this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He rolled the condom on and settled over me. As he positioned himself at my entrance, he leaned down to kiss me, slower now, as though starting over.

Yeah, kissing him for hours would have been enough.

“Word of warning, though.” He eased in a fraction, stretching me to the edge of comfort. The pressure pulled a gasp from me and nearly stopped my heart. “I’ve only got one of these, so we’d better make it count.”

“So give me more,” I breathed.

He shifted upright to watch where we were joined as he gave me another inch. Slow. Controlled. “We fit so fucking well, Gwen.”

The stretch was intense—a perfect burn as my body accepted him. “More.”

He sank deeper, and my whole world was the fullness. Nothing else existed. My whole world was Arthur. He pressed his forehead against mine and held still, buried to the hilt inside me, both of us breathing.

His heartbeat thudded where our bodies met, his cock pulsing inside me. Or it was my pulse. I couldn’t tell anymore.

“You all right?” he murmured. “Didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”

“Give me everything you’ve got, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He withdrew and drove deep, and all logic fled my mind.

Each long, deliberate stroke drew almost all the way out, until only the head of his cock held me open, before he filled me again. His left arm braced beside my head. His right hand gripped my hip. He built a layered, intentional rhythm, the same way he approached everything. Each stroke landed where I needed it. Once he found an angle to make me react, he held it and repeated it.

I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper. My nails raked down his back, and he hissed between his teeth, but he didn’t speed up. He kept the pace, kept the depth, and kept staring at me with an intensity that turned every nerve ending electric.

“Right there,” I managed. “God, right there.”

“Yeah?” He released my hip, lifted me to meet him, and drove deeper. Black spots burst across my vision. “That’s it. Take it. Take every inch.”

“Fuck, Arthur, it’s so good.”

“So fucking good. You’re so perfect I can’t think.” His jaw flexed, and sweat beaded on his temples while the muscles in his arm trembled. He was close. It was clear in the tension of his body, how his cock swelled inside me, how his thrusts were getting harder despite the rhythm he was fighting to maintain.

But somehow, I knew he wasn’t going to let go until I did.

Because that was Arthur Penn.

He put everyone else first.

Even in bed.

“Gwen.” His voice cracked. “I’m not going to last if you⁠—”

“Don’t hold back.” I tightened around him. “Lose yourself with me.”

The last of his control broke loose, and he drove into me deeper, faster, harder, the bed frame knocking the wall. I matched him, my hips rising to meet him. The pressure built from everywhere at once—his cock hitting right where I needed him on every stroke, his weight over me, the wild need in his eyes. The composure he showed the rest of the world vanished.

This. This is the real him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growled. “Give it to me. Now.”